She blinks a few times and nods. “I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive and told you to leave.”
We walk out of the alley together. “Do you need a ride back?” I ask.
She sniffs and looks around. “I don’t know if I can face Chucky right now.”
“I drove my own car.”
She shoots me a sidelong look. “Really?”
She deserves the truth. “Charles would not have condoned my appearance here today.”
She searches my face. My heart is thudding wildly in my chest. “This is about more than just keeping me safe, isn’t it?”
I nod. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
“It’s the same for me.”
It should have been a moment that ended with us in each other’s arms. There is too much sadness in her eyes, though, for me not to understand this is goodbye.
I raise a hand and cup her cheek. “I wish I knew how to help you, Savannah.”
She places her hand over mine, steps back, and breaks the contact. “I wish I hadn’t met you when I wasn’t ready to.” She takes out her phone, types away on it, then pockets it again. “I called for a car to pick me up. Tell Charles I said thank you for everything. I really am grateful for your help. I just can’t . . .”
She turns and walks away.
I’m left with my tumultuous thoughts and a conviction to set things right for her. No matter what that takes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brice
I’m on the fifteenth floor of my office building. I’m done circling around, worrying that Jana Monroe might have nefarious intentions. She will be the resource Savannah believes she is, or she will feel my royal wrath.
I’ve never summoned my men for anything but late-night partying, however they’d come at my command. I haven’t used my connections outside of business deals, but my associates now include some who could make her and her organization disappear. Even Charles, disapproving as he has been lately, didn’t try to dissuade me when I told him where I was going. We don’t know if Monroe is acting on her own or if she’s part of a larger, more dangerous organization.
When one is about to go to battle, it’s best to at least prepare one’s army.
I made an appointment because I’m willing to give her an opportunity to resolve this in a civilized manner. As far as I know, she hasn’t done anything to harm Savannah yet. God help her if I discover that’s not the case.
Her secretary leads me into her office. I take a seat. Calm. Ready.
“How can I help you?” Jana sits back coolly and taps her long fingernails on her glass-top desk. “Your request to see me was a surprise.”
“I’m sure it was. I’m here about Savannah Barre.”
“I’m still not sure how I can help you.”
“She’s a client of yours. Not sure what your other clients are like. Are they also naïve women from small towns?”
She arches an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting assumption. I’m intrigued. It appears we have a mutual friend who isn’t representing my services well.”
“Your services? And what exactly is it that you do?”
“I’m sorry, but confidentiality is essential to the success of what I do and for a positive outcome for my clients. I’m disappointed that Savannah does not appear to understand that.”
I lean forward and growl. “Let’s make one thing clear. Whatever you’ve promised Savannah, whatever plans you have for her, from this day on you clear them with me. She’s under my protection.”
Her laugh is an insult by itself, but she adds, “How outdated and unnecessary. She’s under your protection?”
“Careful. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Jana rises to her feet. “Nor do you. Although it’s kind of sweet . . . I guess . . . that you felt coming here and threatening me would help Savannah, but all you did is confirm that it was a mistake to take her on in the first place. I gave her an opportunity to pull herself above the life she was born into. She chose chaos and you. It’s a shame, though. My way would have had long-term benefits.” She looks me up and down. “You come across to me as a one weekender.”
I don’t care what she thinks of me. I don’t even care that her assessment of me—at least as far as who I was before I came to Boston—is correct. “You speak with real conviction. Is that how you lure your victims in? Promise to help them better themselves? You miscalculated when you chose Savannah, though. She is not desperate and alone, ripe for your picking and manipulation. If I were you, I would tread carefully with how you deal with her. My guess is your business would shrivel if exposed to the spotlight of media attention. People in your business are always popular until your other clients fear you’ll name them in a plea bargain.”
“You think I’m a madam?” Jana’s eyes go wide. Now she looks shaken. “Is that what Savannah thinks I am?”
I push out of the chair and rest my hands on her desk. “It’s what I think you are. Care to correct me? I’d love to hear your version of what you do.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Then we have a problem, don’t we?” I straighten. She may not be ready to confess, but we understand each other now. “You either include me in every decision you make regarding your ‘plans’ for Savannah, or you cut ties with her.”
“You don’t intimidate me.”
“Then you’re not nearly as intelligent as you think you are.”
Jana blinks first and sways on her feet before sitting back down. I won this time, but I can’t leave until I’m sure there won’t be a round two.
“Let’s be clear, if you hurt her, you’re done. You and everyone associated with you.”
“I’m not what you think I am.”
I smile. “Let’s hope not. Because you’re on my radar now. I’ll be watching. If I see you ‘helping’ another unsuspecting woman, there won’t be a safe place for you to hide.”
I leave the office without another word and slip past her young receptionist.
Charles meets me in the hallway.
“It’s done,” I say.
“Done?” His eyes round. “As in, the conversation went well or I need to bring the car around so we can stash a body in the trunk?”
One side of my mouth twitches. Sarcastic bastard. “Jana Monroe is no longer a problem. She’s now aware of how dangerous further association with Savannah would prove to be.”
We enter the elevator together, turning to face the door as it closes. “So, she’s not working with Savannah anymore?”
Was I not clear on that? “Exactly. Savannah is safe now. She can find self-improvement courses on her own without being groomed for whatever that woman had in mind for her.”
His silence is telling.
“It had to be done, Charles. You yourself said you were uncomfortable with the secrecy surrounding the Monroe woman.”
“I did say that.”
“But.”
My phone beeps, ending our conversation there. It’s the text I’ve been waiting for, confirmation that one of the tech companies I’ve courted will allow me to buy in as a private investor. The deal will prove lucrative for both sides, especially if the software they’re developing becomes as successful as I think it will.
After a lifetime of having my every whim anticipated and fulfilled, I championed for my people and won. The partnership will bring in much needed funds and future job opportunities. My brother will soon have a second option to bring needed funds to our country.
Savannah is no longer in danger.
Two goals—both achieved.
The satisfaction I expected to feel doesn’t come.
Charles and I step out onto the thirtieth floor. “Charles, have you ever done something that felt right and wrong at the same time?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yes, and that’s always a sign for me to back out of the situation. It’s time to go home, Bricelion.”
“Not yet, Charles.”
Not
yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Savannah
Powering through is my nature. Do I want to see Brice again? Yes. But not everything a person wants is what they need. So instead I’m taking Jana’s advice about self-care. I just ended an hour-long massage at the spa Chucky introduced me to and am feeling human again.
I can’t give my energy to every mistake I’ve made. All I can do is try to do better from this moment on.
I’m halfway through getting dressed in the changing room when my phone rings. “Hello?”
“Savannah, we need to talk.” Jana’s voice is formal to the point that my stomach instantly twists into knots. I know the tone bad news takes. It has a knife’s edge. Steely and cold.
“What’s going on?”
“We had an agreement. Rules of engagement.” Jana sighs. “I was very clear with my expectations.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been making it to all the appointments you’ve set for me. I thought the event went pretty well.” My face blazes red with worry. “Is this about the conference? I can explain.”
“I had a visitor today.”
“A visitor?”
“A man who said you were under his protection. He insisted I should back off and leave you alone.”
I sag against the wall. I’m going to kill that man. First I’m going to fix this, then he needs to die. “Jana, I’m so sorry. Brice thinks he’s helping. I’ll talk to him. Please. You won’t see him again.”
“Savannah, what I do is only possible because there is confidentiality. I do wish you luck. I’m rooting for you, really. But I can no longer work with you.”
The line cuts out, and I stand in the hallway wide-eyed and gasping. What happened? It’s over. Every single thing I did to get here, stay here, and grow here, is over now. My knees knock together as I lean against the wall.
I’m still in shock as I finish dressing. Maybe I paid for the massage. I don’t know. I’m not even sure how I make it back to my apartment building, but that’s where I am before I know it.
This has to be a dream. I must have fallen asleep on the massage table. That’s all this is. A post-massage nightmare.
“Hey girl, what’s going on?” Claire flips one of her long braids over her shoulder as she steps in my path to the elevator.
I look at her, completely at a loss for what to say.
“Oh, my God, did something happen?” She ushers me gently over to a padded bench in the lobby and rests a hand on my shoulder as we sit.
I’m not dreaming. This is my fucking reality. I did this. I told Brice about Jana. “I screwed up. I screwed everything up by opening my big mouth.”
“Now hang on, there’s hardly anything in this world that can’t be undone and fixed. Tell me what happened and we’ll come up with something to make it right.”
“I had a plan—a good plan. Now I have nothing.”
She rubs my shoulder like one would a child. “Plans change. It would be pretty boring if everything went exactly how we expect it to.”
A tear runs down my cheek. “I guess.”
“My mom always said that when things get tough there are really only two choices a person has. You can lie down and give up or you can get up and keep fighting. I’m a fighter. Which are you?”
I sniff. “I’m definitely a fighter.”
“Okay then. Don’t let this beat you. Whatever plan you had that isn’t happening, it’s not your only path. Come up with a new plan.”
I meet her gaze and realize she probably talks like this to her children. I never had that. I hear her, though. I choose how much power to give this. If I give up and go home now, it’s not Jana’s fault. It’s not even Brice’s. It’s my future and my responsibility to fight for it. “I thought I knew what I was doing, but you’re right, all I need is a new plan.”
“That’s right.” Claire smiles. “And maybe some carbs. They always lift my spirits. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I guarantee it will be loud, messy, and chaotic, but I make a mean spaghetti. To balance that out, though, we’ll need to put in an hour at the gym. Also good for improving your mood.”
“I’d love that.” I remember where I came from and say, “I just had a massage so I won’t be able to lift weights.”
“Walk on the treadmill then. Best way to remind yourself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.”
I rise and give her an impulsive hug. “You are one wise mama.”
Claire pats my back gently as she squeezes me. “Meet you in the gym in an hour?”
“You’re on,” I say. “I do have something I need to do first. But I’ll be there.”
I return to my apartment and take out one of the few possessions I brought with me. It’s a small, tattered notebook I used to write in when I was a teenager. It is full of angst, but also of my dreams.
I settle onto the couch and flip through it. I had planned to open it after my transformation. A few days ago everything in it had felt out of reach to me, but this was my vision board.
What had I wanted before I lost myself?
I’d wanted a family.
Friends.
A job doing something important.
Nothing so crazy I couldn’t make it happen on my own.
I’m a fighter.
I flip to the back of the book and trace a circle around a name and number I wrote there a long time ago. I do have family. My mother had a sister who had children of her own. Somewhere in western Massachusetts, I have a family I’ve never been brave enough to contact.
Soon after my father went to prison, my grandmother told me I’d be staying with her because no one else wanted me. Years later, she told me she reached out after my father died and my aunt hadn’t changed her mind. She wanted nothing to do with me.
The answer to why I’ve hidden away is right here in my teenage handwriting. They didn’t want me and I didn’t want to be rejected again.
I lay down and accepted it . . . for too long.
What would a fighter do?
I close the book and hug it to me.
I can hear my father telling me that no one is better than anyone else. That the only way to overcome a fear is to face it.
I can do this on my own.
I don’t need Jana to make friends for me.
I don’t need her to show me how I can make a difference in the world.
I hug the book tighter.
I’m going to find my mother’s family and see for myself how they feel about me.
That’s my new plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Brice
I’m boarding a private jet a few days later, and pause to look back across the airfield. I hate the idea of leaving without seeing Savannah again. Without apologizing one more time.
Charles is right behind me. “Are we not leaving?”
I sigh. “We’re leaving.”
He chuckles.
I glare at him and continue on into the jet. I settle into a seat, and he takes the one across from me. He says something to me, but my thoughts are with Savannah. I called her—she didn’t answer. Not so much as a text in response.
She made her choice.
We’re in the air before I pull my attention from buildings that are getting smaller and smaller the higher we go. I hope Savannah finds what she came to Boston for.
I smile as I remember the first time we met. It’s hard to believe the woman who had strode away from me at the warehouse, the one who’d left me standing there with my heart in her hand, was the same one I’d first thought was a lost homeless person. Every single day with her had been full of the unexpected . . . and I hadn’t meant to get so involved, but the pull of her had been irresistible.
I rub my forehead with disgust as I remember how I practically chased her around Boston. I never would, but if I ever did share the story with my friends, no one would believe me. There has always been a steady supply of willing women—and if I ever came across a woman who wasn’t interested, I don
’t remember the experience. I certainly haven’t cared enough to pursue any of them.
Was it because I felt she needed someone to protect her?
Was it her yearning to better herself that called to a part of me that wanted the same for myself? Two very different people, each trying to find their footing.
She said she wasn’t ready to meet me. What does she think isn’t already incredible about her, because I haven’t found anything.
She’s resilient.
Brave.
Funny as hell.
Does she think she isn’t polished enough? I would have fucked her in that stinky coat of hers. How she tangled me up on the inside had nothing to do with if her hair was styled and highlighted.
“Coffee, Your Highness?” a member of the royal staff asked.
I decline with a shake of my head. We aren’t even back in Calvadria, and my needs are already being anticipated. In Bachelor Tower, I definitely took advantage of the housekeeping and dinner service, but it was nice to put something down and not have it instantly put away.
I enjoy walking into situations where people are not predisposed to agree with me. It forces me to sharpen my awareness of others and what they want. In a few hours, I’ll be once again surrounded by people who will tell me every idea I have is brilliant.
Not my family. They’ll warn me not to bring the wildness of my partying home.
I glance across at Charles.
And not him. He doesn’t tell me what I want to hear.
I remember bursting into tears once when I skinned my knee. I’d been walking on a stone wall while my tutor quizzed me on math facts. Charles had taken me aside and told me a prince doesn’t cry in public. Never. Did I want my tutor to respect me? Did I want the staff to? Then I had to be strong.
I didn’t tell my mother what he’d said. She would have told me crying was perfectly fine. My father would have fired the tutor for putting me in danger in the first place. Mathias would have promised to watch over me. My little sister, Bianca, would have cried with me.
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